


Quixotic

by allonsymckenzie



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2018-11-20 13:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsymckenzie/pseuds/allonsymckenzie
Summary: quix·ot·ic (kwikˈsädik); Adjective: exceedingly idealistic; unrealistic and impractical.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Betas: @aiienzo (I dragged her into reading outside her fandoms lol) and impracticaljokers on Tumblr. Thank you both.
> 
> Slight emetophobia warning mid chapter.

Of all the aspects of the show, Q always found planning to be the most tedious. The logistics of everything just seemed so boring, so mundane. He was grateful that Joey and Murray handled the bulk of the details, and the main responsibility that fell to him was garnering ideas and suggesting locations. But still: _tedious_. The four of them liked to meet once a week during production, just them, to review and discuss the show's plan for the week. It was a way, they all figured, to keep themselves grounded. It was their intention from day one of Impractical Jokers to keep it in their control, and not let the network force them into anything they didn't want.

Q rubbed at his temples, a nagging tension squeezing at his brain. He looked up with heavy eyes and silently begged the room to be done for the day. Sal was watching his best friend struggle with the migraine from across the table. He wasn't buying the pity, though. “Q, we ain't falling for that bullshit. It's your fault you decided to drink during What Say You? last night.” Sal laughed, quick to comment. “I knew we had this to do this morning and I wanted to be clear headed for it.”

Q paused before answering, the contrasting smells of salty bacon and sweet syrup on everyone's plates making his stomach do a somersault. He silently blamed Joe for wanting to do a breakfast meeting. “We were talking about goddamn whiskey and shit, I wanted some. Sue me.”

“Ladies, please. We're almost done.” Murr held his hands up to settle the dispute. Sal kept smirking in Q’s direction, while Q flipped him off in response. “Okay, so tomorrow we meet at Fairway for the sample game, then City Hall Park for ‘Have you seen my wife?’”

“When is the wedding planner challenge again? I know we threw that one in somewhere.” Q genuinely asked. This challenge wasn't new; they'd done it once previously. Two of them would be planners at a bridal expo, and the other two would tell them what to say and do.

“That is Saturday evening.” Murr consulted his notes, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. “How are you guys wanting to break it down, same as before or switch it?”

“Same.” Sal chimed in instantly. “I mean, come on. You've got Q and myself being wedding planners when both of us are the most pessimistic about the whole institution.” Q smirked in agreement, despite his head still swimming in his hangover.

“Okay, but you can't be so goddamn chicken this time,” said Joe with a cocky grin. His eyes shot to Sal, waiting for the inevitable fired-up reaction.

“You wanted one of us to ask who's pregnant! That's not fair!” Joe loved winding Sal up. His face lit up so enthusiastically whenever he was truly stressed out about something, and it usually amused Joe. The four had been best friends for nearly three decades, and yet the small things like this, and the fact that he still reacts just the same as always, are what made the four work so well.

“It's not fair? Are you kidding? It's like you don't even know me.” Joe laughed. Sal sighed, silently still fuming over the last time.

“Okay Sally, calm down.” Q slipped in, patting the man's shoulders heartily. “We ain't afraid of shit, Gatto. We can do whatever shit you throw our way.” Sal threw his head back, eyebrows raised, throwing the ball back in Joe's court.

The meeting wrapped up as the four agreed upon the plans, but in parting, Joe smirked at Q and Sal, simply stating: “Oh, you boys just signed your death certificates.”

* * *

Q and Sal dressed in identical black suits, completely done up to the nines with matching black ties and polished shoes. The crowd at the expo was quite large, far larger than the last one. As they began filming their segment, Q raised his whiskey glass in a toast with Sal.

“To us, the open bar at this place, and to kicking Joe and Murr’s asses in this,” Q said smugly before taking a drink. The cold liquor slid down his throat, leaving a burning trail the whole way down. He grimaced slightly at the sensation before blinking the feeling back and watched as Sal adjusted his suit jacket, his glasses, and finally his hair. Q laughed. “Would you knock it off with the primping, Sally? You're fine.”

“Yeah, yeah. By the way, how's that bridge you live under? Is there free WiFi yet?” Sal fired back.

The homeless aesthetic joke again. Q ran his fingers through his wild mane, a look of mock pain in his eyes. “Why Sal, I'm hurt. How dare you say such hurtful things?” The aggrieved note in his voice was negated by the mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

Before Sal could answer, Joe's words in their ears interrupted their conversation.

"Yeah, Sal. How dare you say such things to your husband?" Joe waited for their response, but when he got nothing but their disbelieving, slightly alarmed expressions turned toward the hidden camera, he only laughed. "that's right, boys. You're gonna be such good wedding planners, you even did your own wedding."

“Oh, my God.” Sal shuddered under his breath.

 “You cannot chicken out on this one.” Murr laughed. “There's two wedding bands on the table behind you. Put them on.”

“Ah, God.” Q said aloud as he reached out and slipped the cool band onto his finger. He glanced at Sal, who looked as pale as a bedsheet as he slowly slipped on his own ring. “You ready for this?”

Before Sal could reply, two girls approached their booth, curious and inquiring about their services.

“Showtime, boys.” said Joe mischievously.

Q and Sal spent a few minutes explaining their business to the ladies before Joe said “Tell them your endearing tale of falling in love.”

Q sighed, taking another drink from his glass. “Well, funny enough, Sal and I are married, actually.”

The two simultaneously flashed their bands, as if on cue.

“To each other,” Sal called, nervously, above the hum of the crowd.

The girl on the left laughed, her eyes shining. “Yeah, I figured that's what you meant.”

“We met in high school,” Sal began smiling, lost within the partially-fabricated memory. Together, they told an exaggerated tale of being in the improv classes together, going away to their respective colleges, only to find each other again two years previously.

“Feelings just came up, you know?” Q said, matter of factly. “I mean, look at this face.” He turned to Sal and grabbed his cheeks in one hand. Sal's eyebrows raised in question but Q simply went on. “The guy's totally a lady killer if he wasn't a Brian killer y’know?” Q shot the ladies a cocky smile as Sal pulled away from the grip.

“I don't know about you, Murr. But I'm not fully convinced,” said Joe in a playful tone.

“Yeah, I'm not feeling the love from back here,” Murr agreed.

“Oh, for Christ's sake.” Q sighed, then thanked the ladies for their consideration as they walked away. “Murr doesn't even have emotions, so that little ferret has no say in this.”

“I'm not a ferret, for fuck’s sake,” Murr rebutted. He let a few seconds pass as Q and Sal reveled in laughter before presenting the next challenge. “I think we should play ‘now’.”

Joe's eyes lit in excitement. “What'd you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking, everytime we say now, kiss each other.” Murr said with a mischievous tone. Q and Sal simultaneously glanced at the camera in a dead halt.

“Come on, this crap feels like it's been building for years, there's no way you can deny that.” Joe added. Sal shot the two a look of panic, mixed with fear, mixed with anger. Joe knew he just treaded into waters Sal warned he dare not touch. He raised his eyebrow to the hidden man, his face changed to that of betrayal, as Joe's laughter carried on through his ear. Joe well knew what he had done, but he'd always been one for doing the unexpected. It's just all to make a good show, anyway.

Q and Sal sighed collectively, and Q put his hand on Sal's shoulder, and his calming presence helped pull the man back to reality. “Come on, Sally, you knew this was coming...” he said calmly.

Sal looked up at Brian's face, studying every detail. He noticed the scruff around his jaw and mouth, growing thicker now that he'd retired from the FDNY. He noticed his longer mane, with streaks of gray throughout. He noticed the dark brown eyes, looking into his, the slight wrinkles around the corners when he smiled that framed them perfectly.

“Now.” the word came through the earpiece, and, after a deep sigh, they went for it. Q kept it short, simple and closed mouthed. Sal breathed slowly through his nose as their lips stayed pressed together tightly.

“Okay, you're good.” Joe said, but the words were just a mumble in Sal's head. He didn't really drink today, so why was he all warm and fuzzy? He could taste the stale whiskey on Brian's lips and sucked his own into his mouth, taking in the bitterness. Brian smelled of musky cologne and old books, an interesting combination that was uniquely him. It's the thoughts about Q that brought back that well hidden pain, the ideas he'd had off and on for years. He swallowed hard, hoping to push them down with the saliva.

Q looked into Sal's green eyes, lit with wonder, curiosity, and felt they mirrored his own. It was…odd. He didn't know how to feel at that moment, so he just simply didn't. This was his fourth glass, anyway, so his head had begun to get a little foggy. Clearly the whiskey. That's all.

Wasn’t it?

Q turned back and kissed Sal once more, the two hidden away silent in shock. Q's mouth was softer in this approach, taking Sal by surprise. Sal melted into the kiss, the two parting lips just slightly. Q's hand reached up just to brush against Sal's face, ghosting along the scruff of his beard.

They pulled back just a few seconds later, and Sal smiled, still taken aback. Q chuckled to himself and squeezed the other's hand as he turned back to face the crowd.

“Well, that's more convincing…” Joe said after a moment. “Didn't need that much convincing, boys.”

“I'm just…trying to pretend I didn't see that right now.” Murr laughed.

“That's love, bitch.” Q held up their conjoined hands, looking into the camera in the distance with a confident stare, Sal laughing slightly at the statement.

Joe and Murr called out ‘now’ a few more times, they both more hastily pecked each other's lips, satisfying the command the other two kept doling out. What seemed like an eternity lasted just 30 minutes.

The feel of Q's lips against Sal's sent the latter further into himself, more withdrawn from the crowd. Though part was happy he got to do this after so long, it didn't feel right.

Sal thanked the heavens when their turn finally ended. He and Q hugged in celebration as the four men switched places and production set up to go one more. Q had moved on to his 3rd beer, done with his few whiskeys of the night.

“You're really putting them back, bud.” Sal laughed in a wavering voice.

“Well,” Q began after a sip, “for one: we won the wedding challenge. Which is damn near impossible for us, given our track record.” he took another, longer sip. “and for two: I'm just enjoying myself. I mean, come on. Sally, you should loosen up a bit.” Q threw his arm over Sal's shoulder, and Sal pulled away.

“Let's just get this done, bud.”

* * *

Later, production wrapped for the day. Various crew members clapped the two on the back for their “brave heroics” to pull out the win.

“It helped that Joe wouldn't talk of his own goddamn wedding. Way to self promote, am I right?” Sal laughed to one of them. He sighed and looked around the venue to see Q talking to Murr, laughing harder than usual, already a bit three sheets to the wind.

“Heeeeeey buddy!” Q excitedly wrapped his arms around Sal, lifting him off the ground. “We won! It's awesome, Murr and Joe suck ass!” Murr mock frowned at the drunken statement, then hugged the both of them.

“How many have you had, Q?” Sal asked.

“Enough.” said Q, still hugging onto Sal's side.

Murr laughed, the sight too amusing.“Good job, guys. See ya Monday.” he smiled a bit as he walked off, leaving the two alone.

“Hey, uh, Q?” Sal asked, his hand behind his head.

“Yeah, Sally?” Q wrapped one hand around Sal's shoulder.

Sal took another deep breath before the words poured out of his mouth, “You wanna just stay at my place? It's closer, and you're shit faced already.”

Q gave the idea some serious thought. “Ah, yeah, maybe I should.” He smiled, looking at Sal. “You're a good, good friend, Salvatore.”

Q doesn't use his full name unless there's one of two requirements met: Q either has to be drunk to the point he's not gonna remember the next day, or he's furious to the point of a parent using a child’s full name after you’ve really done yourself in.

The smiling, singing Q that accompanied him on the walk home told Sal he wasn’t furious, so he was clearly lost to the alcohol. He recalled 4 whiskeys during the shoot, and after their turn, he had probably about 6-7 beers.

Yeah. He's drunk.

Sal turned the two of them around the familiar corners and onto the sidewalk toward his house. It was a peaceful borough of Staten Island, and at 11:30 on a Saturday night, very quiet.

He walked the two of them up the stairs, fumbling with his keys as he unlocked the front door. Q made his way into the threshold just a foot before Sal chimed in “Shoes, Brian.” Sal meant business when Brian came out instead of Q, so he obliged, slipping off the red Adidas into the corner. “I still can't believe you wore those,” Sal shook his head, stripping off his own dress shoes.

“Hey, I waited till we were done, where no one could see.” he laughed, looking to Sal, who shook his head in mock disappointment.

“Says the guy who didn't wear pants when we played secretaries,” he said simply as he ran upstairs to put the shoes away.

“Oh, shut it Cranjis.” Q laughed at his own humor, falling down onto the living room couch. He pulled out his phone to check on the cat camera. It was a silly idea he had during the “Where's Larry” tour, but it proved useful to check in while he's gone from home overnight, regardless of where or why. He cycled through the few cams, all three accounted for as they slept in various spots in the quiet, dimly lit home.

 _Shit_ , he thought. _I don't have clothes here._ “Sal?” he called out. “Aren't we about the same size?”

“Close enough. I've got you some stuff. Don't worry.” Sal called back from where he was fumbling around upstairs. Q relaxed back into the couch, looking at the modest space around him. It was clean, and vaguely smelled of lemon Pledge. It wasn't completely sterile, but didn't have as much of a ‘lived in’ feel as his own house did.

Sal ran back down the stairs, a bundle of clothing in his hand. He tossed the ball of fabric to Q, explaining “Those are a little large on me anyway, should fit you fine. Shouldn't have to sleep in a suit.” Q thanked him for the offer, standing up to remove his pants right there. “Oh, Brian come on. Bathrooms over there.” Sal was serious again, but the other just laughed.

“Ah, come on, Sally. You've seen more of me than my underwear anyway.” That statement caused Sal's cheeks to turn bright red, and he could feel the flush grow over his face. He turned around and clicked on the television, previously left on the weather channel. He tried to engross himself in the details of the calm Staten Island springtime, but he couldn't help but look back over to Q, who was in just his underwear.

Q was confused at the pants. Sal smirked. It was adorable. He was like a child.

“Do you need help, buddy?” he asked, crossing the distance between them. He took the pants out of the other man's hand, unbundling them. Q studied Sal's concentrated face, the way his brows furrowed together as he tried to figure out just how this guy got these pants in a knot in such a short time.

“You know, you look pretty good in this light, Salvatore.”

The sound of his full name, combined with the heavy, dulcet tone, took him by surprise. He looked up to find Q looking at him the same as he did during the challenge. Sal swallowed hard, shaking his head.

“You're… You're drunk, buddy.” he laughed nervously, undoing the bundle of pants slowly. He could feel the tension, and it created a knot in his stomach he tried so hard to ignore. He could feel Q looking at him, he could feel the urge to act on what he'd been trying to suppress, but it wasn't worth it.

Q couldn't tell what had changed about Sal. His green eyes seemed to sparkle more than they used to, his smile brighter than before. He wasn't sure why his presence was more welcoming than it once was, but it was a feeling that tucked deep within him that he didn't want to lose. So he closed the gap between the two, knocking the pants out of Sal's hands as he took his face into his own hands, kissing him hard.

Sal inhaled sharply, reacting immediately and pulling Q closer to his own body. He had given up, his wall was down. It was the little things that night he'd noticed about him more than normal: his scent, that interesting musky smell that was only his. It was the way he wrapped his arm around him, it felt different than it did before. In this moment, Sal couldn't think of him as Q, his best friend, his sidekick of sorts; here, in this state, he was Brian, the man that Sal had long tried so hard not to fall for, but knew he was the one he wanted, needed.

The two melted together, falling back into the couch behind them. Sal had tried to deny the warm and fuzzy feeling growing all night, but it was no use. Between the way Brian's accent dragged out his name to the way he'd been looking at him doe eyed all night, Sal was hooked on this new drug Brian so effortlessly supplied. He was hooked on the feeling of Brian's tongue alongside his, his hands rushing from his face to his back to his hips. He was hooked on the smell of him, the alcohol mixed with musk that was purely him. He was hooked on the way their hips ground together as Brian's lips trailed down his neck. He was hooked on wherever this crazy train was going, regardless of the derail surely to follow.

* * *

The dim light that peeked through the curtains played at Sal's closed eyelids. He groaned and rolled over, trying to suppress the inevitable wake up. It was no use, and so he cracked his eyes open slightly.

He was in his bed, in his meticulously tidy room, and he was alone. Did he dream last night? Surely he did. He sat up in bed, brushing his hands across his face, realizing that everything was indeed a dream. Why was he disappointed? It's Brian. No, it's Q, for Christ's sake. He's not in love with his best friend. It's the same mantra he'd chanted to himself for years, and it was harder than ever to fight back the tears that the feelings are real.

He sighed, slipping out of bed and making his way downstairs to grab some water. At the bottom, he found a still sleeping Q on the couch, pants still on the ground from the night before.

Sal’s eyes widened. It was all real. It happened. And he couldn't help but fight back the acid crawling up his throat as he rushed into the kitchen.

The distant retching sound roused Q from his sleep. He looked around for a second before the pain of the hangover took hold. He winced at the sunlight pouring from the bay window, and in stark realization, scrambled to pull on the pants lying on the floor. The details of the night before still hung fresh in his mind, and fuck, if he didn't know what to do now.

“Sal?” he called out once he was more modestly covered. He heard a slight cough, the sink running a minute, and then finally “Yeah? You finally up? Want some water?”

Q pinched the bridge of his nose, the sharp pain nagging at him. “Yeah, and some aspirin if you have it.”

Sal came out a couple minutes later, pill bottle and glass in hand. “Here ya go.”

Q gratefully swallowed the few pills and water down. “Thanks, buddy.” the air was thick between them, and both knew what needed to be said. “Are you okay?”

Sal took a second to reply, laughing nervously. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I heard you get kinda sick just a second ago. You feeling okay?” Q looked the man in the eye, but Sal dodged his glare.

“Eh, just passing. Probably ate something before the shoot yesterday the didn't quite agree with me.” Sal went to stand up, but Q stopped him.

“Sal, we should talk.”

Panic set in Sal's gut like a rock. So Q remembered, he figured, but he's hungover… “What happened last night?” Q asked genuinely.

His hand stayed on Sal's arm, and it was white hot to Sal's skin. He was hyper aware of Q's inquisitive glance, of the touch of his hand on his arm, of the genuine concern and confusion in his voice. Sal panicked, even though he'd honestly been dreaming about this for years, he wasn't ready. Not like this.

“You drank quite a bit onset. I brought you here cause I didn't want you trying to make your way home drunk.” Sal began. Q nodded in understanding as he kept drinking the water, wincing when he moved too fast. “I got you some clothes, and I don't know, you must've passed out on the couch while I got ready and into bed.”

“Is that all?” Q looked him straight in the eyes. Sal's heart sank. Q knew what happened, and he's lying to his best friend. But it's for the better between them. Between the four of them.

“Yeah. That's all.”

Q nodded his head. “Okay. I was just curious. I don't remember a lot of what happened.” he went to stand up, wincing only slightly. “I need to get going back home. Haven't fed the cats since the afternoon. They're probably having the run of the house right now.”

“Yeah, God forbid those...things can wait a minute.” Q shot him a sideways glance and smirked as he walked into the bathroom to change.

“Mind if I just borrow the shirt, Sally?” he called out.

“Yeah you're good. It's an old one anyway.” Sal walked into the kitchen and grabbed some juice. He wasn't hungover at all, but he felt like a train had run over his body. He didn't sleep well that night, his body constantly twisting around the bed. He took a few drinks out of the glass before hearing the bathroom door open and close.

Q walked in, old t-shirt mixed with dress pants, Adidas in hand. “I feel like I'm doing the goddamn walk of shame.” Sal laughed, disheartened.

“Yeah, that's a good one.” Q furrowed his brows together.

“Okay come on, Sal. What's going on? Something’s bothering you.”

“I'm just tired.” he dismissed. “I didn't sleep well. I might go back and sleep for a bit once I lock you out.”

“Are you sure that's it?” Q asked. It felt like the final chance to come clean, but it broke Sal's heart to even think of admitting to everything.

“Yeah, that's all. Don't worry about me.” Sal smiled, and Q shrugged his shoulders, gathering up his dress shirt and jacket, stuffing the things into his otherwise empty backpack before slipping on the Adidas.

“Okay then. Call me if you need anything. I'll see ya tomorrow.” he brought the man in for a hug, feeling resistance he wasn't used to.

“See ya. Q.” Sal said as he locked the door. He turned his back against the door, and it took the sight of Q going round the corner before letting the dam finally break. His body slid down the wood, his body coming to rest on the tile entry. He felt the full panic start to set in. The hyper awareness he'd been feeling all morning was his precursor. It was gonna happen, and yet it still hurt every time.

He'd been feeling like this for years. He went through bouts of depression and anxiety over it. Some months are easier than others, but it hurt more when he and Q had spent a lot of time together. Tours were a bastard, and usually he tried to keep to himself.

Sometimes he'd bunk with Q, and usually by the end of the tour, his energy was gone. He felt like he was on autopilot, just controlling his body while mentally checked out. He'd spend some time away from the guys, pointedly Q, until he felt comfortable enough to even look at the guy without breaking down.

The small sobs that came from deep within clenched his gut hard. What hurt was that he didn't make the move last night. Q did. But he was drunk so did it really even count? Sal was lost, confused as to what all had conspired last night. He remembered the hot and heavy kissing, grinding against Q's body that felt so amazing. It lit his whole body aflame. It was at that point things grew fuzzy, so he just simply stopped trying to remember.

When his sobs grew quiet, he pulled his phone out and dialed the first person he could think of.

“What's up, buddy?”

“Joe, I made a mistake last night. I need someone to talk to.” Sal's voice was harsh, gravelly and defeated.

“I've got Milana, but Bessy’s almost home. I can be over in like, 20-30 minutes?”

“That's fine.” his tone was flat.

“Do ya need me to stay on the phone or are you okay enough?” Joe's fatherly instincts kicked in, the flat tone of Sal's voice setting off alarms.

“Nah, I'm fine. Trust me. Just get here when you can.”

the phone call clicked off and Joe was left in a panic. He knew that Sal had a thing for Q. To be fair, Sal didn't hide it so well. Q is just oblivious to the outside world. Joe chastised himself for pushing the challenge last night, knowing that if they didn't, maybe Sal wouldn't be in such a funk. _Fucking hell, Joe. What did you do._

* * *

Sal opened the door to Joe's two knocks. He'd been sitting on the floor in front of it the entire time. He couldn't bring himself to move. Joe looked into the man's eyes, swollen, red, and watery and immediately pulled him in. “It's okay, let's go sit down.” he pulled the broken Sal over to the couch, where he curled into himself instinctively. “What happened?”

“Everything. At least, I think so.” said Sal. “We hooked up last night. Q and I. He was drunk, he used my full name and fuck, that got to me. I feel horrible.”

“I'm sorry.” was the first thing out of Joe's mouth. “I shouldn't have pushed you guys to that in the challenge. I know how you feel, of course.”

“It's not you, Joe.” Sal dismissed, his voice rougher than ever. “The few stolen kisses weren't anything really.”

“Then what's got you such a mess?” Joe asked. He then held up a finger, “Hold that thought”, and grabbed two glasses of water from the kitchen. “Here, drink.”

Sal drank obligingly. “Thanks”, his voice was clearer. “It's the fact that, as far as I can tell, Q can remember everything, and I lied to him. I pretended nothing happened, and let him think it was a dream, or at least something he'd concocted in his head.”

“Is that what you want?” Joe asked, his own glass went untouched.

“I don't know what I want.” he sighed. “How did you feel, y’know, with everything?” Joe insisted.

Sal sighed. “It was everything I had wanted. We fit together so well. It was magical, but I just…I can't.”

“Why not?” the two words hung in his mind heavier than any other Joe had asked. Sal sat back, looking down at the floor.

“Because I'm not ready to lose him.”

* * *

“It's just weird, man, I don't know what's up with him.” Q paced the length of his living room, Benjamin watching him with curious eyes from the couch. Q held the phone up to his ear and fired off at a rapid pace. “I remember everything, Murr. It wasn't any damn dream, I know it wasn't.”

“And he's saying he remembers nothing? Or is he saying nothing happened?” Murr asked calmly on the other end. He half expected this to come, to be honest. Joe knew he was playing with fire, and Murr warned him maybe it wasn't the best idea. He'd been readying himself for the aftermath since he left Sal and Q alone the night before.

“He's saying nothing happened. He's saying he helped get me out of the suit and I passed out on the couch.” Q moved to the kitchen, taking a gulp of water down before continuing. “Murr, I woke up in just my underwear. The clothes were on the floor. I don't remember ever putting them on.” The other end was silent for a moment. “Murr?”

“I'm thinking, hold on.” Murr took another moment of silence before a deep breath. “So, you clearly remember all of this. This isn't blurred by your drunkenness last night?”

“Murr, I may drink myself into a stupor sometimes, but it doesn't fuck with my memory.” Q sat down onto the couch, the TV droning on about fantastic new knives he doesn't give a shit about, while Benjamin curled up onto his lap.

“And Sal is acting like it didn't happen?”

“Yeah, like not only did it not happen, but that the thought of it happening made him sick.” Q paused a moment. “He was retching in the kitchen when I woke up. Said it was something he ate yesterday afternoon, but I've had my fair share of food poisoning, and that shit hits you quicker than 18 hours.”

Murr hummed in acknowledgment. “Q, I think you guys need to talk.”

Q pet the top of Ben's head, the cat softly purring in pleasure. “Yeah, I know that. Just, when I left, I hugged him like we all do, and just felt like a brick wall. He was so tense.”

Murr assessed this situation and replied “Give him a day. See if he reaches out. I think he's panicking. He needs space, he's a sensitive guy.”

Q sighed. “Okay. Thanks, bud. I just needed someone to talk to.”

“No problem. You gonna be okay? You need me to come hang out for a while?”

“Nah, I'm just gonna hang around home today. I'll be fine. I'll let you know what I find out.” he ended the conversation, turning his attention to the sleeping cat in his lap.

“Jesus, Ben. What a goddamn mess.” the cat didn't reply with any more than a head shake and a readjustment. Yeah, it's been a bit too long since his last serious relationship, and that one jaded him to the whole idea of ever being with someone at this point. What's the point if they're just gonna leave anyway? He glanced at his tattoo: 38. Lives alone. Has 3 cats. He's now 41 but it's still otherwise true: he lives alone, he has 3 cats. He doesn't even know what it'd be like to live with anyone anymore that isn't feline. He thought about last night as his eyes stared off at the magic bullet infomercial.

Sal had come back downstairs with the borrowed pajamas, and he was grateful he didn't have to sleep in the suit clothes. He didn't think far enough ahead to have thrown some alternative clothing into his backpack. He remembered Sal trying hard not to look at him. He remembered the lone lamp lit in the corner of the room highlighting his face just right. He really did look good in that light. He remembered the slightly fuzzy view of Sal's face, his green eyes darkened by the dim lighting.

Q admitted all too well he liked kissing him in the challenge, but wasn't huge on pressuring the guy into anything he wasn't comfortable with. He chuckled at the thought now. Sal may be trying to deny it, but he seemed oddly at peace with it then. Still jaded to the idea of relationships as a whole, he could do this with Sal. He already did, more or less, if he were to be honest. Q bit his lip in thought, and decided to shoot him a text.

_Q, 3:52 pm: How's it going, bud?_

* * *

Sal received the message immediately, but his heart sank. He wanted nothing to do with Q right now. He fucked around with his best friend, and promised himself over the years he'd never let that happen. He's freaked out knowing Q knows. So instead, he retreated to the kitchen to clean out the refrigerator, leaving the phone on the coffee table.

_Q, 4:10 pm: just checking on ya, bud. Hit me up._

_Q, 5:44 pm: Back to the Future is on tv if you're interested._

_Q, 8:22 pm: you okay, Sal?_

_Q, 10:17 pm: it's getting late, pal. Hope you're doing okay._

* * *

Sal caught every message. Sal watched Back to the Future, but he didn't reply. He didn't wanna lose Q, so the best way to do so, in his mind, was to simply push him away for a while. Let what happened blow over until Q stopped questioning his logic. It'll blow over. He knew it.


	2. Chapter 2

The house didn't have a speck of dust in it. Not a single smudge on any form of glass whatsoever. Sal couldn't help that his cleanliness compulsions came out tenfold when his anxiety is high. It was something to keep the thoughts away. Something to help exhaust him to sleep. Something to keep from dreaming. 

 

Now that he'd had the one night with Q, his heart craved it. His mind craved it. His body craved it. Q, up until this point, had just been a curiosity to Sal, and so it was easy enough to suppress the desires. But now that he had the tangible memory in his mind, he wanted more. Q was a drug, and he needed his fix. 

 

But the issue nagging at Sal was his uncertainty of Q's own sexuality.  He'd never made any mention of it, and the guy had previously been engaged to whom he thought was a very nice girl. He'd fought with his mind over the whole thing for the past two weeks.  _ What if he's really into me? I mean, he wouldn't have made the first move like that for the fuck of it, right? _

 

No. That's not reality. That's not Sal's reality. So he kept cleaning, kept staying busy, kept his kind off of everything to do with Q. 

* * *

 

“Okay seriously. You have to come in sometime.” Joe's voice conveyed urgency. 

 

“I can't, I'm sick.” Sal said, his tone betraying his words. 

 

Joe rolled his eyes, turning away from the crew around him. “Now goddammit I know you're not sick.” 

 

“I'm not coming, Joe. I can't.”

 

“Sal, it's been two weeks and Q's onto you. He's feeling like shit too, you know.”

 

“Yeah.” was all Sal could manage. 

 

Joe sighed at the empty silence. “Okay, fine. I'll call you later.” he turned around to face a worried Q. “He said he's sick, he's not coming.”

 

Q rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. He's been ignoring my texts for two weeks. I stopped trying.” 

 

“Did you try going over there?” Murr asked. 

 

“No answer. I stood out there for a good hour, waiting for him to change his mind. But nothing.” he looked to Joe, who'd had the only semblance of contact with Sal. “Has he said anything at all?”

 

Joe bit his lip a little, looking at the floor. Exhaling, he began. “He's told me before, he's afraid of losing you. You're his best friend, Q. He'd be lost without you.”

 

Q stood stunned. He blinked, gathering his words. “Fuck. Is that what he thinks?”

 

Both men nodded in agreement. “He's been pretty torn up about it.” Joe added. 

 

Q paused a moment. “And he's talked about it with you. Right?” 

 

Joe nodded. “He doesn't wanna speak with you, at least for now.” Q pinched the bridge of his nose. 

 

“Did he say why?”

 

Joe shook his head. “Not to me, no.” Q looked to Murr, who shook his head as well. 

 

Q sighed. “I…God, I feel like I'm the one that fucked up. I _ know  _ I'm the one that fucked up. I made the first move, I was drunk, I just….” he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, pressing back the tears trying to escape. “I don't know why I did it.”

 

The air was silent, heavy for what seemed like an eternity between the three before someone finally spoke. 

 

“Do you remember why you did it?” Murr asked. 

 

“Cause it just felt like, I don't know…”Q sighed. “Like he was dying to do that and holding himself back. I don't know, I just….did it.”

 

Joe smirked. “I'm honestly not surprised. Q, how do you feel about everything?”

 

Q stood, palms over his face in exasperation, and said “All I know is that I don't wanna take back what I did. I'm not ashamed of it. I-it felt right, like it was just supposed to be. But I…” he paused a moment to recollect his thoughts. “I just want my friend back.”

 

Murr looked at the two with an inquisitive look on his face. Joe sighed. “Ferret has a foolproof plan.” Q laughed slightly at the joke. 

 

“Well, I mean, I have an idea at least.” said Murr. The two men looked at him, Joe with an amused grin, and Q, an exhausted glance. “Just room with him when we go film out in LA next week.”

 

“Okay, lemme stop you right there.” Q held his hand up. “For one, that's how it usually goes anyway cause he can't stand the sight of the way you two handle hotels.” this brought a slight smile to his face. “I realize it's like a vacation in a way but goddamn, you guys leave your shit everywhere.” 

 

“They get paid to clean, it's job security.” Murr reasoned. 

 

“It's a dickhole move, Murr, for fucks sake. Have some decency.” 

 

“Murr? Decency? And I'm married to the Queen of England.” Joe laughed. 

 

“Anyway…” Murr said, calling over the other two. “We go to LA next week. He's gonna room with you. He has no choice but to talk to you at some point.”

 

“Okay, but are you forgetting that he's  _ brushing off everyone and everything to do with the show?”  _ Q argued. 

 

Joe clapped his hands. “Ah, I've got an idea. It won't be a huge deal, trust me.” Q looked at the man with a questioning glance, but sighed. 

 

“I don't wanna know what you've got planned. I just want Sal back.” 

* * *

 

On an average day off, Q would maybe go out with a few buddies, maybe play a game he'd been trying to work through, or maybe get a hold of Sal and get in an episode of What Say You. 

 

This wasn't an average day. This day, he just found himself laying around the house. There was no interest in anything he laid his eyes on, nothing that could spark a smile or any form of entertainment. The house was quiet, the TV off and the cats sleeping. Normally he'd find this peaceful, but this quiet was disturbing. This quiet was too loud. He managed to haul his body up from the couch he'd laid on for countless hours and up the stairs to his room. 

 

Pulling out a small suitcase and his backpack, he began absentmindedly packing for the flight. His hands folded clothes, while his mind thought back to the night with Sal. His hands pushed and prodded the various items down into the backpack and suitcase, while his mind thought of the feeling of Sal's body against his. His hands under him felt the clothing he'd finished packing, but his mind felt Sal under the tips, the feeling of his warm body against his own. Q blinked back a few tears, the feeling of wanting to be with his best friend newly awakened like a hot knife through his gut. 

 

He carried the two bags down and sat them by the door. He went into the kitchen and refilled the cats bowls, setting out the automatic dispensing ones he used for extended absences. 

Chessie stood on the counter, looking at him with curious eyes. 

 

“I know, Chessie, it's messed up.” Q answered the unasked statement. Chessie mewed in reply, jumping off and nosing around the equipment. “It's all messed up.” 

 

He sighed, petting the cat briefly on the head before leaving the room. He pulled out his phone, the boarding pass notification gently reminded him of the upcoming flight. _Quinn, Brian M._ _JFK 1:45 AM, LAX 4:45 AM._ He texted Murr to iron out the last minute details.

 

_ Q, 8:42 pm: What time am I picking you up?  _

_ Ferret, 8:47 pm: is 11 too late?  _

_ Q, 8:50 pm: Nah, it shouldn't be. It's a red eye, it shouldn't be horribly crowded.  _

_ Ferret, 8:52 pm: Yeah, you're probably right. You doing okay?  _

_ Q, 9:27 pm: I'm not really up to talking about it now, Murr. Sorry.  _

* * *

 

“Answer the goddamn door, Sal.” Joe stood outside Sal's doorway, giving casual waves and “How's it going”s to the neighbors passing by. It wasn't necessarily an abnormal sight, one of the guys hanging around outside Sal's house. It's just the simple fact that Joe had zero volume control. The sound of him calling to Sal through the door was not unlike that of an F5 tornado, even though all he was doing was trying to get the man's attention. 

 

Sal could hear him loud and clear. Half of Staten Island could. It was easy enough to ignore Q, as he didn't push him. Q knew not to push Sal if he wasn't comfortable, and for that Sal was grateful. 

 

The fog horn that is Joe Gatto, however, could not be ignored. Sal sighed, rising from his couch and to the door, cracking it slightly. “What?”

 

Joe seized the opportunity and pushed his way through. Sal sighed, not giving enough of a care to protest. He turned and closed the door, looking back to Joe, who stood, staring him down. It felt like an eternity passing between the two, the still air of the sterile house creating a dead silence. Sal adjusted the glasses on his face, having not cared enough to mess with the contacts, as he waited for Joe's inevitable rant. 

 

“You know goddamn well what.” Joe started. Sal brushed his face with his hands, the scruff of his beard feeling unruly underneath. “You've managed to blow off production for two weeks. The network is getting pissed. I think the only reason you're still even in as good of a standing as you are is that you're one of us, and you have majority rule of the show.”

 

“I know.” is almost that came from Sal's lips. His voice was heavy and gravelly, mostly from being unused for the past few weeks. “I've just, I've not been myself.”

 

“Well, you've made that pretty clear, bud, but you've gotta come back.” Joe came closer, eye level with the man. “We're gonna go to Los Angeles tomorrow. All four of us.” 

 

Sal's eyes widened in panic. “No. No-I-I can’t” he mumbled. 

 

“You can. And you are. I'm staying here tonight, we're gonna get your stuff ready, and I'm taking you to the airport in the morning.” 

 

“Joe, come on. I just…” Sal began to protest once more, but Joe's stern, serious glance told him it wasn't worth the effort. He sighed. “You don't have to goddamn babysit me.” 

 

“I feel like I do. You're like the opposite of a flight risk. If you're not kept an eye on, you won't do shit.” Joe patted the man's shoulder. “Someone's gotta keep this ship sailing.” he stepped out of the door, retrieving his luggage. Sal sat down onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He stared into the specs that dotted it, he noted the slight cobwebs in the corner he somehow missed. Closing his eyes, he felt the knot in his stomach well up, and the feeling he dreaded took hold once more. 

 

The panic he'd been trying to repress had once again started to crawl back up his spine. The sound of the television in the distance was just a mumble. The air of the room was warmer than he thought, but still he felt chilled. He could feel his chest grow heavy, his heart raced, palms reduced to a clammy sweat. His eyes screwed shut as he removed the glasses that gently sat in front, and ran his hands down his face. 

 

Joe had only stepped out for a minute, but upon walking back through the door, he immediately saw Sal, the look on his face, and dropped his gear. 

“Sal? Sal, you okay?”

 

“I can't do it, Joe.” he said faintly. Joe came back to the man's side, Sal's eyes wide and unfocused. “I can't face him.”

 

“You can, Sal. You definitely can.” Joe came to rest by his side, talking him through. 

 

“I….I lied to him. I lied to him about everything.” how voice was barely audible. 

 

“You did because you weren't ready, bud. It's completely understandable.”

 

“No. Joe, it's not.” Sal's voice raised into an angry howl. White hot tears streamed down his face as he bent at the waist, face resting in his hands. “I can't look at him without…without…”

Joe put his hand on Sal's back, silently encouraging him. 

 

“Without what?”

 

“Joe. I…” he sighed, looking up at Joe. “I can't go back to being friends. And I know he probably won't be so…” 

 

“So what?”

 

“i just don't think he'd be open to this.” 

 

Joe pulled the man into his side, the other falling in without protest. “I understand, this shit is scary. But, I think you and Q are at the point where this needs to come out. I don't see when would be a better time. Just let it out, and let the chips fall where they may.”

 

“Easy for someone who doesn't have this crush bullshit to deal with anymore.” Sal pulled away, standing up and stretching his stiffened back. “Never once crushed on any of us. And fuck, even if you did, you hid it well.”

 

“Yeah,” Joe stood up, walking over to his backpack. “I may not have gotten into any of youse, but I sure as fuck would've kept it a better secret  you did.”

 

Sal sighed, but before he could protest, Joe added, “You're lucky to have Q as a crush. The man adores you. He does so much, he's oblivious to how goddamn hard you've had it for him.” 

 

Sal's eyebrows knitted. “... Yeah?”

 

Joe slung his backpack over his shoulder, heading into the bathroom. “Yeah. You're over thinking this, bud. Just let this all play out.” the door shut, leaving Sal to think everything through. 

* * *

 

Q pulled along the curb, Murr standing with his suitcase by his side. He jumped out and helped Murr load the case in the back seat of the Jeep before the two headed for the airport. 

 

It was a mostly silent ride, Murr deep into his phone and Q tiredly weaving in and out of the traffic, the soft sound of variety radio droning in the background. 

 

“The other guys are taking a later flight, is that what you said?” Q finally asked while merging in the exit for JFK. 

 

“Joe thinks it'll be easier to get Sal on board if he doesn't have to see-” Murr tripped on his words and scrambled to finish.  “doesn't have to leave as late as this.”

 

“So he doesn't have to see me until he has to.” Q finished what the other had tried to avoid. Murr shook his head faintly in agreement. 

 

“Yeah.” Q hummed at the answer, the hand gripping the wheel growing white from tension. 

 

Murr’s text alert loudly called out in the quiet car, making the both of them jump. “Goddamnit, sorry about that.” 

 

“Give me a goddamn heart attack there, Murr. Jesus.” said Q, turning into the parking garage.

 

“Sorry.” Murr mumbled, opening the text. 

 

_ Joe, 11:27 pm: Sal’s had a breakdown. Gonna be a long flight.  _

 

_ Murr, 11:28 pm: Q's doing okay. But not great. Looks pretty rough. Text me when you get to the airport.  _

 

_ Joe, 11:28 pm: 10-4. _

* * *

 

Time was but a blur throughout the drive to the airport, to where he then stood in TSA. It was as if he blinked, an hour passed. Sal fidgeted with the jacket zipper, tapped the handle of his suitcase, and cracked his knuckles repeatedly. He looked behind him to see Joe casually conversing with the man behind them. 

 

The stranger waved in acknowledgment, having recognized both from the show. Sal waved halfheartedly, not listening to the conversation. He barely heard Joe joke “Toured for 10 plus years, guy still doesn't like flying.” before the sound faded once more. 

 

Joe thanked the stranger once more before pulling out his phone, Sal having turned around. 

 

_ Joe, 3:22 am: We're in TSA right now.  _

 

_ Murr, 3:27 am: Q seriously looks rough, man. The homeless thing's gone a little far.  _

 

_ Joe, 3:30 am: as long as he doesn't smell homeless.  _

 

_ Murr, 3:32 am: I think he was a step away from that, if you wanna know the truth.  _

 

_ Joe, 3:35 am: just passed through TSA, waiting to board. Just be glad you don't have catatonic Sally to push through.  _

 

_ Murr, 3:50 am. Good luck.  _

* * *

 

Q and Murr landed in LA, retrieved their stuff and were in a taxi to the hotel faster than Q's tired head could keep up with. The city was still dark, but very humid. He lay back in the seat, eyes closed, his only wish at the moment was to get to that hotel so he could sleep. Murr typed away at the phone, checking various social media outlets, and texting Joe their arrival at the hotel. 

 

“How far behind are they?” Q asked. 

 

“They're on the plane now, so about 4 hours, give or take.” Murr put his phone away, looking over to Q. “You haven't slept well lately, have you?”

 

“No shit, Sherlock.” Q tried to joke, but the tone was lost. “Sorry. No, I haven't. I…” he thought a moment before continuing. “I'm just not sure where this is gonna go, me and Sal. The man's my very best friend, and I just don't wanna lose him.”

 

Murr sat, lost in thought, while Q looked to him for an answer. “I'm thinking.” he reassured. 

 

“You're like a goddamn robot when it comes to emotions, ferret.” Q laughed slightly. 

 

Murr blew off the barrage of insults. “Like I told you back in New York, you need to talk to him. Whenever you can. Fuck, even if it's when he walks through that hotel door, whenever feels right.”

 

Q closed his eyes for the rest of the ride, resting and thinking until they reached the hotel. 

 

“All I know,” Q told Murr as they received their respective keys, “Is I'm just gonna go in there and blank out a few hours. I don't know what Sal's gonna say or do when he gets here. I wanna be awake enough for it. Later, man.” he hugged the other, heading to the elevator, unsure of what will happen come daylight. 

* * *

 

Sal blinked, and he was on the plane. He blinked again, and there were kids staring from across the aisle. Where did these kids come from? They weren't there a second ago. He checked his watch, and 30 minutes had passed since the last blink. He inhaled deeply, putting on his headphones, and purchasing the in-flight TV package, hoping to sleep the 6 hours to LA, the droning sound of HGTV aiding him. 

 

The next blink roused him from an unrestful slumber, Joe nudging him to put his seat belt back on. The next one, and his suitcase was back in hand from baggage claim. The last one, and he was at the hotel, about to face Q for the first time in nearly 3 weeks, the first time since everything happened. He looked at his phone, 8:30 am. It didn't feel like that much time should have passed. Not to mention the 3 hours lost heading this way. Sal blinked again, and everything moved in normal pace. 

 

The two grabbed their keys from the concierge and Sal headed to the elevator, Joe having said his goodbye to check out the breakfast choices. He absent-mindedly kicked his suitcase in front of him, nerves unraveling. Nudging and prodding the case, he walked through the hallway, eyes down and trained to the floor. 

 

“Hey, bud. Glad to see you.” the sound of the familiar voice warmed Sal, a smile spread slightly across his face. 

 

“Hey, Murr.” he pulled the small man into a hug. “How was the flight?” 

 

“Pretty smooth, slept the whole way.” Murr looked into Sal's eyes, looking for answers he couldn't find. “Yours?” 

 

“Eh, it was kinda rough. I didn't sleep well last night.”  _ or several nights, but it's beside the point. _ “I was just gonna go in and crash for a little.” 

 

Murr bit his lip. He wanted to warn him, but for some reason, he couldn't get it past his lips. He shook the doubt from his mind, his neck twitching slightly. “Yeah, doesn't sound like a bad idea. Get some rest, bud. Wanna grab a bite later?” 

 

“Yeah, I'll call you when I'm up and moving.” he pulled Murr into one more hug, silently happy to have him back around, but too emotionally drained to show it. “See ya bud.”

 

He walked through the elevator door, up to his floor and to his room. His shared room with Brian. 

 

He walked through the door, the curtain drawn, sunlight cracking through the middle. The room was dim, but with the stress of the past few weeks mixed with the 6 hour flight, his head ached something terrible, so he was grateful for the darkness. The welcoming cool air told him Q had likely been here at a point, but the persistent nagging ache prevented him from looking further. He slipped into the bathroom to remove his jeans and jacket in hopes of a more comfortable nap. 

 

Q rolled over, the sound of someone moving around roused him from a deep sleep. He knew it was Sal. He knew it in his heart, which leaped out of his chest, but he didn't want to scare the man. The drowsiness from his slumber was hard for him to overcome, so he simply rolled over and fell back into sleep, curling up in the corner of the near bed. 

 

Sal caught sight of the bed on the far side, near the window, unsure of which Q had claimed. He didn't particularly care at that moment, as Q didn't seem to be in the room. He settled under the covers, the silent hum of the air conditioning quickly lulled his tense body to a relaxed slumber. 

* * *

 

Q sat up in the bed an hour later, Sal's sleeping figure dimly lit by the crack of the curtain. 1 am came too quickly, and he still felt as if he ran on New York time. He checked his phone, surprised to see it wasn't even 10 am LA time. He slumped back into the pillows, unwilling to move. He turned his head to see Sal's chest rise and fall gently, a slow and calm rhythm. He lay there in thought, wanting so bad to wake the man up and just get everything out in the open. But he was peaceful, and Q imagined that that wasn't the case over the past few weeks.

 

He rolled over to face that side, the slow and steady rhythm of Sal's breathing almost lulling him back to sleep. He was borderline out when the panicked and gasping breath came from the other man. Confused, Q sat up, looking at Sal, whose arms had started moving rapidly. Q was alarmed, fireworks in his mind, a white hot, sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, watching Sal fight the panic in his sleep. It was when the man nearly rolled off the bed that Q jumped up, uncaring of what Sal would think once he came out. 

 

“Sal, Sal come on, bud.” he grabbed the other man and pulled him back from the edge of the bed. Sal was in a full panic, eyes still shut, and gasping for air. Q was frightened, but his fireman skills took over as he pulled into the bed, locking his grip on him as the terrors rolled through Sal's body. “Sally, bud, come on. You're okay.” 

 

It took Sal a few minutes to pull out of it, and when he finally came to, fully conscious and aware, he felt Brian's grip around his chest. 

 

“Q, please tell me that's you.” he said hoarsely. 

 

“Yeah bud, it's me.” Q pulled his arm in, hugging him slightly. 

 

“Please let go.” Q dropped his grip without another word, and Sal jumped immediately. 

 

“Sal, please, just stay calm.” he reasoned, standing up to draw the curtains. The intrusive light blinded them both for a moment, but the light was welcoming, illuminating both to one another, the first time they've seen each other in nearly 3 weeks. 

 

“Joe said I could do this, but I can't do this.” he walked briskly to the bathroom, quickly throwing on the discarded jeans. “I can't look at you, Q.” 

 

Q's fists balled at his sides. “Sal, come on.” 

 

“Q, please. Not now.” he walked out, moving around Q to the nightstand, retrieving his phone and glasses. Q crossed the room, leaving Sal in the corner. 

 

“Sal, I've had enough of this.” he said through gritted teeth. “You think you've had it bad, and you're not even the one who made the goddamn first move.” 

 

Sal's eyes widened behind the frames, his mouth open slightly. “I…”

 

“I know you lied, Sal. And I don't give a fuck about that right now.” he came closer to the man, his hands on Sal's arms. “I just wanna talk.” 

 

“About what?” Sal sighed. “There's really nothing to say.”

 

“The fuck there's nothing to say.” Q tightened his hold on Sal, who had begun to slip from his grip. Sal turned his face away from Q's, unwilling to face what was in front of him. “Look at me, Sal. Please.” 

 

_ Please.  _ The word hurt Sal to the core. Q doesn't beg. He rarely begs. Begging had always been beneath him. If he had to beg, it wasn't worth his time, he remembered the man saying once. The only recent time he'd heard Q beg was when he was chained down, tarantulas all over his body. 

 

“Don't. Don't even, Q.” he reached up and pushed his hands away, pushing past him and toward the door. “I'm not up to this now, just…” he trailed off, hand on the knob, frozen once he looked back to Q.

 

The sunlight was a backdrop to Q's shadowed figure, accentuating his slumped shoulders. Sal could barely see the exasperated, tired face. Q held still, hands at his sides, studying Sal's own expression. 

 

He watched the tense eyebrows soften underneath the frames, the green eyes just barely bringing out a slight sparkle. Sal's mouth hung open, words he meant to say left unsaid. The air was thick, both wanted so badly to break the silence, but neither were brave enough to try. 

 

“We can't keep at this forever.” Q finally gave in. “If not now, when?” he brushed his fingers through his hair, resting them briefly over his head. He walked a few steps toward Sal, who didn't move in either direction. 

 

“Q…” Sal started, with no clue how to finish. He wanted to apologize. He wanted things to be okay. His mind, however, wanted to pretend it never happened. So badly, he thought, he'd rather not have Q around, however long it took.

 

“Sal.” Q was there. Right in front of him once more. Sal's hand was still on the door. He could go either direction now. But regardless, he was at a crossroad. He could go out the door now, and continue to ignore the major elephant in the room, or…

 

Sal looked at Q's face, one of exhaustion, sadness, and the slightest bit of desperation. The stress of worry had taken a toll on him, and it showed in the tired eyes, the wrinkles around the corners even more prominent than usual.

 

“Brian.” he said. He doesn't use the name Brian often. Only when he's serious about hammering in a point, or when he's trying to get him to listen. Or, in this special case, when he's looking at him in this whole new lens. The one that's been in front of him all along, and yet he continued to ignore and repress. 

  
Sal Vulcano was at a crossroad, and he was about to jump. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duuuuuuuudes. Dudes, dudes, dudes. I am SO very sorry for dropping this like a hot potato. I loved writing this story, and still do. Just, parts of where I'm thinking of taking this story, it's hard to write when you've been suddenly broken up with. It's also hard to write when you work 5 days a week, go to your last semester of nursing school 4 days a week, and have two of those days be 9-10 hour clinicals. However, I've pushed past that breakup. I've graduated school. I've passed my boards. Now tbh, life hasn't been greater for me. So, it's time to get back to this. Again, so so many apologies. Promise I won't leave you hanging like this.

“I bet 10 bucks they're banging.” Joe blurted, breaking the silence between himself and Murr. The two sat in the lobby, the first production meeting lined up for an hour from that moment, and neither had heard a word from Q or Sal.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, do you have to put it that way?” Murr sighed. “And I'm not taking you up on that.”

“Why not?” Joe laughed. He loved to watch Murr cringe at his words. “You know I'm right, don't you?” he nudged Murr, who slapped him away.

“As much as I love the thought of this shit between them coming to an end, I don't need detailed images of it.”

Joe smirked again, head nodding slightly. “You know they're banging.” he looked down to his phone and sent Sal a quick message. _Joe, 10:46 am: production meeting is at noon, don't get too caught up in yourselves_.

* * *

The text went unanswered in his pocket as he looked to Q. Q's face was cautious, guarded as he studied Sal's. Sal stood, hand slipped from the doorknob, staring back, an inquisitive look on his face.“I've been thinking, since the last time we saw each other.” Q started.

“About what?” Sal asked. He searched Q's face, looking at the way his eyes looked all over Sal's face, his eyes, hair, everything, and it started pouring out. “I know I lied, and I'm sorry for that. I was just trying to pretend it didn't happen. I couldn't face reality.”

“I know, and I forgive you for all that. That's not it, though.” Q's warm smile silenced Sal, comforting him. “I've been thinking about how fucking stupid I am.” he laughed, the self depreciated joke lost to the other. “How I couldn't tell for a second how much I mean to you. I was so goddamn oblivious. Even though you mean so much to me, it wasn't the same as how you've felt. I kept thinking about just how you feel about me, and I thought about how I just cannot compete with that feeling.”

Sal stepped back slightly, the end of the entryway unforgiving in space. “What're you getting at here, Brian?” He looked at the man, in nothing but a t shirt and shorts, arms crossed, the tattoos barely showing. He trained his eyes not on the others own eyes, but on the end of the quixotic tattoo. The word itself defined the both of them: exceedingly idealistic; unrealistic and impractical. An idea that was bound to end badly.

Q then reached out, running his hands down Sal's arms, gently taking his hands within his own. “I'm saying I wanna be an idiot, and try this. If you're still willing.”

* * *

”I'm about to go up there.” Joe stood outside the room for the initial production meeting. Murr glanced sideways, still scrolling through his phone. “It's goddamn 12:30, can't stand around much longer.”

“I mean, if you wanna get that mental image ingrained in your head, be my guest.” Murr laughed, “I don't need that.” They then heard the sound of footsteps, loud and heavy, running down the hallway.

“God, guys, sorry about that, I overslept.” Q brushed back the hair from his face, straightening the jacket over his shirt.

“Where's Sal?” asked Murr.

“He's in the shower, he'll be here in 10 minutes.”

“Did you two…” Joe pointed, a smirk across his face.

Q stared him down, his eyes unbetraying his thoughts. “We're not gonna talk about that now. We've got work to do.” he walked in, greeting the rest of the crew, as Joe turned to say to Murr “They totally did.”

Murr shoved the man away, “I'll wait for Sal.” Joe walked in, the door closing behind him. He only waited a few minutes, Sal running around the corner a short time later.

“Hey, Murr. Sorry.” he said, slightly out of breath.

“Okay, I….I'm just gonna ask this once.” Murr laughed slightly, his neck twitching.

“Oh God.” Sal brushed his hands across his face, his beard catching in between his fingers. "Nah we're not gonna talk about it. Not right now, dude.”

“That's almost exactly what Q said, now come on.” he looked to Sal once more, knowing how bad he was at keeping a straight face. “If you crack a smile right now that's all I need to know.” 

Sal stared at him with no emotion. Murr stared back, mirroring his expression. “We're not on the show, this isn't gonna work.”

A few seconds passed before Murr conceded. “Fine. We need to get in there, anyway. But you're gonna tell us eventually.” Murr walked through the door, and Sal cracked a smile.

* * *

The four emerged from the meeting two hours later, the plan for the week being set to start in the morning, while the crew finalized location plans. They headed to a restaurant around the block to go over the plan for the week. “So,” said Murr, consulting his notes he'd taken with a studious look, “Union Station tomorrow morning for ‘Have you seen my wife’, Grand Park for “can you help me bury this”, and then Grand Central Market for “did I deserve that?’”

“So,” said Q, who finally broke as treat of awkward silence, “We've got a free day, then.”

“Yep, nothing until tomorrow morning.” Murr confirmed. Q looked down at the table a moment before catching Sal's gaze in an upward glance. Q sent him a sly glance, and Sal quickly looked away, his lip caught between his teeth to keep from smiling.

“So, anything anyone wanna talk about?” Joe asked as he clapped his hands together. Q looked away from Sal instantly,

“Nah. Not much.” Sal blushed, eyes still averted away.

“Okay. Come on, cut the bullshit.” said Joe. “What happened between the two of you before the meeting?”It was Q's turn to blush, avoiding Joe's question. “Well?”

* * *

Sal looked down at their conjoined hands. His palms sweated onto Brian's, but he didn't care. Brian just held them tightly. The dark hotel room felt insanely warm, or maybe that was just him. All he could feel was the heat on his face, and the gentle strokes of Brian's fingers alongside his own.

“Sal?” the voice was low, hushed.

“Huh?” Sal said, his head still in a daze.

“What're you thinking?” Brian's voice was soft, concerned and caring.

Sal shook his head slightly. “I…I don't know what I'm thinking, to be perfectly honest.”

Q chuckled lightly, raising his hand up to caress Sal's face. He took in a deep breath, catching the other's attention. “If you're okay with it, I'd like to try something.”

His eyes searched Sal's, looking for the silent go ahead. Sal knew in the pit of his stomach what was coming, but this time, he wasn't afraid. There was no fight or fight inside him, no panic that sent him fleeing to the door. This time, he felt ready. He felt his heart leap out of his chest, but in such an exciting and exhilarating way. Q leaned in, and Sal knew where this was going.

It was tentative, when their lips first met. It wasn't like the wedding challenge, nor when a drunken and cloudy minded Brian kissed him. This felt different than the both. It was safe, calming, soothing. It wasn't something that immediately ignited a fire inside either. Instead, it was one that nursed the wounds left open by the past few weeks of aftermath. It was a calm and gentle reminder that this is what the both of them had waited for.Sal fell into the kiss, unable to help himself around Brian. He was everything he wanted, his best friend and more. Sal denied for so long, but here, with a willing Brian, he pulled out his courage and dove head first.

He pulled from their kiss just slightly, the brush of Brian's scruff against his own face in itself an aphrodisiac. Pressing their foreheads together, he murmured against Brian's lips “If you're willing, I'm willing.”

* * *

“Something happened.” Murr smirked, looking between the two. It took but only a second before a howl of pain and surprise came from Murr’s mouth. “Did you really just kick me?”

Q looked away in innocence. “You've gotta watch those chicken legs, bud.”

Sal stretched, standing up away from the table. “I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel for a bit. Later, guys.” The others said their goodbyes to him as Q checked his phone.

_Q, 4:13 pm: Meet you in the room in 20, I have a plan._

_Sal, 4:17 pm: Can't wait._

Q feigned a yawn, excusing himself from the table.

“Come on, you could've made money off this sure thing.” said Joe to Murr as Q left in the distance.

* * *

Sal cracked open the door of the shared room not a second past twenty minutes after. The room felt livelier than the last time he'd been inside. The lights were on,and the bright blue sky outside became a welcome backdrop to where Q stood, back to the door while rummaging through his suitcase. “Hey.” a quiet Sal called.

Q turned around, eyes sparkling in excitement. “Hey, bud.” his mouth upturned into a glowing smile. “I was wondering if you'd like to go down to the beach?”

Sal laughed nervously. “Sure, I guess.” He started toward his suitcase, but Q stopped him halfway.

His hand lay gently on Sal's arm, his eyes searching Sal's, looking into his head. “What're you thinking?” he asked quietly.

Sal looked into his eyes, lost in thought. He started to reassure it was nothing, and not to worry. But instead, he let out, “So many things, Bri. I can't even begin to tell you.”

“We have plenty of time, Sally.” Q smiled warmly. “I'm here for you. I'm your best friend over everything else. For now, let's go down to the beach and just enjoy ourselves.”

Sal smiled back, pulling away and rummaging through his own suitcase, retrieving his beach clothing.

* * *

The beach was just a short walk away from the hotel, the white sand warm and soothing to the touch. The sound was not unlike that of an electric current; the chatter of the people around buzzed with life. Sal felt out of place, like everyone was looking at him. He looked around, yet not a single eye on either of them, as the two walked down the beach, Q's hand tightly, lovingly holding Sal's. Q felt the tension radiating from the other, felt the tight and clammy grip in his hand. “Sally, relax. It's what we're here to do.”

“I, I can't. “ Sal sighed. The two threw down their towels, sitting down in a sunny and vacant spot in the middle of the beach. “I just feel so on edge.”

“Tell me about it.” Q laughed, trying to ease the tension. Sal looked at the other, the wind blowing through his long mane, the blue bandana he'd tied around his forehead holding the mess down just slightly.

“I…” Sal began. Q leaned closer, listening intently. “I'm sorry for leaving you hanging after…after… y'know.”

“I know, bud. “ Q smiled. He moved his hand over Sal's, looking into his eyes. “You were scared. It's understandable.” “I was terrified.”

Sal cracked a tiny smile, the tension lifting slightly by just the touch of Brian's hand on his own. “Bri, you've no idea how long this has been going on inside.”

“Joe mentioned to me that you'd been struggling with this for a while. Something about…” Q looked up briefly in thought, the sunglasses on his face shining in the sunlight. He turned back toward Sal. “About you were scared to lose me as your friend. That you'd be lost without me.”

Sal nodded in agreement. “I would.” he looked out to the ocean, blue and shining, and continued. “Do you remember, after your engagement, you were a mess?”

Q smiled in bemusement. “Yeah?”

“I just remember thinking to myself ‘I can't do this to him.’ all I can think is that, that this is gonna be just as painful.”

Q's bemused smile continued. “You think I'm not aware of that? Of course this could happen.” Sal looked to the ground, the sand peppered with small pebbles right underneath him, as his hand was taken by the others.

“Life is about taking risks, Sal.” Q began. “If I could've seen that she would've left me for a cop two weeks before the wedding, d’ya think I would have proposed to begin with? Of course not.” Sal gripped the man's hand tightly, silently soothing the painful memory. “But life isn't about knowing what's gonna happen every second of every day. It's about jumping off those uncertain cliffs, never knowing what's at the bottom.” Q gripped the hand back, inching closer to Sal.

“No matter what happens, I don't wanna lose you.” Sal repeated the mantra that had raced through his mind for ages.

“You're never gonna lose me, Sal.” Q reassured. “I promise.” Sal tightened their grip, just as a text came through his phone. He pulled out the obtrusive device, a text from Joe blaring across the screen.

_Joe, to Sal, Quinn, Ferret, 5:27 pm: family dinner. In-N-Out. 6:30. Just the four of us._

“Well.” Sal sighed. “I don't think Joey's gonna hold it in any longer.”

Q laughed warmly. “You knew this was gonna happen. They're gonna give us unrelenting hell for this.”

“God, I know.” Sal rose from the sand, extending his hand out to the other. “Better get going.”

Through the entire walk back, the two were silent. Both seemed to study the upcoming dinner, Q seeing the best and Sal, the worst. Finally, upon reaching inside their room, Sal came clean.

“Bri, I need to know something.”

“What's that?” Brian called out from the bathroom.

“W…what are we?” silence. A small shuffle of feet and clothing the only sound in the hotel. Sal couldn't even hear his own breath as he sunk onto the bed.

The door opened, and Brian stepped around the corner, nothing but a towel around his waist. “What do you want this to be?”

Sal laughed, intending on warmth and love but instead a cackle of nervousness, “Come on, Bri, that's not fair to ask me.”

“I know,” Brian shifted his stance, his arm resting against the wall and his forehead. “but it's not just about me. I know what I want.”

Sal, still confused, looked back to Brian, who moved onto his lap, caressing his face and gently kissing him. Sal's breath came sharply as he shifted his hips instinctively into Brian's. Both moaned into the kiss, tongues languidly caressing each other. Brian shifted the two further into the bed, towel shimmying off of his hips and leaving him almost proudly exposed.

“I could keep going like this all night, buddy.” he said, voice thick and low with lust.

“Mmmaaaah” Sal moaned as Brian ran long, open mouthed kisses down his neck. “Wh-what about dinner?”

He kept running down to the others shoulder, pulling at the shirt neckline and uncaring of his words. “This isn't helping whatever’s comin, babe…”

Brian stopped, shifting his weight back up to straddle the lying man. “You just called me babe.”

Sal's face turned the brightest red, embarrassingly covered in his hands. “It just slipped out.”

“Well, it was adorable, Sal. Don't be ashamed.” Brian reached down and uncovered his face, gently and lovingly kissing him once more. “We should probably get a move on.” he quickly jumped off the other, his hardness covered quickly by the towel. “I'm, uh, gonna take care of somethin in here…”

Sal sighed, smiling at the sight. “Yeah… you're not the only one.” he sat up as the bathroom door closed. His sudden awareness of the dirty, gritty feeling all around him set off alarms. “Oh, for fucks sake, Bri. You got sand all over the bed!”

* * *

It wasn't the classiest place on earth, their choice of restaurants that evening. Not by a long shot. But In-N-Out was a west coast staple, and more importantly, cheap. Also, it was just right around the corner from the hotel, easing a meetup of the four. Sal and Q approached the building, the others still a few minutes away, and the lump in Sal’s throat felt sizeable enough to choke in an instant. He instinctively wanted to reach for Q's hand, searching for that comfort. But he didn't yet want to reveal to the others what was going on.

Q noticed the slightly panicked look on Sal’s face.“All we're doing is exploring something new. There's nothing to be so scared of.”

Sal sighed. “I know, but it's just nerve wracking to even talk about it.” He took a deep breath and, with a glance to Q's sly smile, said “but y’know what?”

“what's that, bud?” Q said, the grin still prominently across his face.

“They're our friends, and they've dealt with all of this the past few weeks and beyond. All I want is them to know what's up. And if no one else likes it? Go fuck yourself.”

Q pulled Sal into a tight side hug. “Hashtag GFY…” he pulled back just slightly to look him in the eyes. “Babe.”

Sal couldn't help but laugh at the sound of the word, Q's accent thick and full of love. “see it still sounds weird.”

“Way to kill the mood, bud.” Q playfully shoved him away. “Lets see what happens next time you want some.”

“Hey boys, you're actually on time for once.” Joe called from the distance, closing off their last moment of current privacy. “Less kissing, more animal style.”

“I think that's between them, not us.” Murr jabbed.

“Ha ha, butt stuff.” Sal mocked dryly, as the four walked in.

* * *

“So, after all this bullshit, you guys still aren't a thing?” Murr summarized, the four finishing their meals.

“It's not that we're not a ‘thing’, it's just, we want freedom to explore this without constraining ourselves to a label.” Q picked up the last of his fries, the period at the end of what he felt was a very satisfying explanation.

Joe didn't seem to agree. “So, this is cool on both of youse, right?” He looked to Sal, only glancing at Q as if to silence the man.

“Yeah. It was my idea.” Sal lied. “I just want whatever this is, to be fucking honest.” Q patted the man’s shoulder affectionately. “I got what I wanted.”

Murr and Joe stared at the two deadpanned. The four sat in awkward silence before Joe finally spoke. “As long as the tendersquad isn't damaged in this, fuck it, go fuck each other as much as ya like.” Joe finally said, cracking a smile.

Sal cracked up, both in relief of the knowledge and at the nonsensical squad name. He fell instantly into Q's shoulder, who wrapped his arms around the laughing man without a second thought.

“I don't know about that just yet. Again, exploring.” Q smiled, Sal still calming down in his arms.

“Okay then, Dora the explorer.” Said Murr of all people. It was Q's turn to burst into the hysterics, collapsing into Sal as the other two finally stood to leave.

“Can't imagine which ones swiper.” Joe added, the other two lost in laughter.

“Again, 10 bucks. Q does most of the swiping.” Murr shook his head, attempting to rid the mental picture as they left.

Sal sat up, calming down from the high of his hysterics. Q pulled him in as he pulled himself up. “I mean, you're okay with this, right buddy?”

“Bri, I just want you. Whatever that entails, I'll take it.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we're going Explicit.

“Get your sandy ass in that shower.” Sal shoved the man playfully through the shared rooms door. “I better not find a single grain anywhere near the beds.”  Filming had finally come to an end after a long week in LA. Q was the “big loser”, and his beach patrol duties were now much willingly retired.

 "I washed at the beach, thank you.” Q called out from the bathroom.”You've been sleeping in your own bed the whole time anyway. What difference does it make to you?”

 The throwaway comment hit Sal like a bullet. Suddenly he was self conscious of what Brian thought. Should he have been sleeping with him at this point? But they're not anything official, it's not anything that should be sped up to that extreme already, right?

 He couldn't keep the thought from racing through his mind, not even while flipping through the mindless channels on tv. It was their last night in LA, and last day of filming for several weeks. The two had the time to explore this and figure it out. But the nagging thought of what Brian had said wouldn't leave him alone.

 So when he heard the shower turn off, he couldn't hold back any longer.

 Brian was two steps out of the bathroom before Sal was on him. He didn't have time to take a breath, let alone speak before Sal's mouth was on his own. It was an unrelenting hunger that stirred inside the pit of his stomach, one he'd ignored until Sal awakened it. So it took no time for Brian to pull Sal in, readying himself for wherever this leads.

 The aggressive slide of their tongues alongside each other mimicked the hurried motions of their hands. Brian had taken no time to strip down, having been in only a towel to begin with. He worked to remove the obtrusive fabric covering Sal, pulling away from the rushed and bruising kisses just enough to rid Sal's body of his shirt. He ghosted kisses along Sal's neck, helping the other remove the belt alongside the jeans on his waist.

 Sal was in a state of euphoria. Every dream he'd had of Brian for years, and their one brief encounter nearly a month back, failed in comparison. This was another level, one he'd prayed to every listening deity for the blessing. This was heaven, nirvana.

 Brian pulled Sal back in, bringing him back to earth and reality. His hair was wet, clumped and scraggly and sticking to his sweat enrobed face. His eyes, brown and deep, stared into Sal's, lust filled and searching for the go ahead.

 “Oh, Salvatore,” he moaned. “I don't know what you do to me but _fuck_ , I want you.”

 Sal held Brian's head in his hands, eyes closed in both ecstasy and away from Q's pleading eyes. He could feel his cock, crying out to be touched, and looked back to those searching eyes.

 Without words, Sal pulled Brian to the bed, the latter lay over him, trailing telling marks down his neck and shoulder. Sal was painfully hard at this point, and so gently pulled at Brian's tousled mane.

 Brian looked up without another thought, kissing the man on the lips once more. It was tender and loving, not like the others that came before.

 “Please, God please, Bri.” He moaned in between. Brian arched up, his cock rubbing against Sal's stomach, eliciting a moan of absolute pleasure.

 Brian kissed gently on those pouting lips once more, whispering “close your eyes” in that smooth and dulcet tone. The green orbs disappeared without a second thought, and Brian gathered up just enough spit in his palm to run his hand gently down Sal's shaft.

 The sounds coming out of the man had nearly undone him then and there. “Oh god, bri please.”

 “Yeah? Yeah, you like that?” Brian slowly increased the speed, the gentle flow of moans and “please bri”s becoming harder to hear over the ache of his own neglected cock.

 Brian pulled down Sal's body, his hand leaving the cock neglected once more. Sal opened his eyes to find Brian's mouth at the tip, his eyes again pleading for that green light.

 Sal was bemused by the sentiment. Brian never wanted to force Sal into this. He lay there, Sal's cock in his face and his own in his hand, and he could've simply taken it in.

 Instead he had to have that okay, and for that, Sal fell in love.

 “Please, babe please, God I need it.” He moaned before Brian's warm and welcoming mouth finally embraced his bulging and throbbing cock. His tongue swiftly swiped along the shaft, the buildup of precum salty and sweet all at once in his mouth. Brian couldn't help but begin to work his own cock, needing that touch however he could get it. He marched the speed to the slow, careful pace he'd given to Sal's cock. His tongue almost expertly swirled around the shaft, intermittently taking it all in and pressing his tongue flat against the underside.

 This elicited the most ecstasy filled moan from the younger man. His hands flew to Brian's hair, fingers tangling within the strands. Brian had forgotten his own needs then, tongue pressed still against Sal's underside. The moans became choking sobs, Sal nearly lost for words as the rhythmic motion of Brian's throat built up speed.

 Sal chanted a string of curses and praises, “oh Goddamn Brian, Jesus fuck please, please keep going God” as Brian could feel Sal's cock beginning to tense. His hands in Brian's hair tugged and pulled roughly, and any other time would've elicited a howl of pain, but the sting at his scalp was welcoming, pleasing to him.

 Another press of his tongue along that certain spot and Sal choked out “Oh God please Bri, right there oh God…” as he came hard into Brian's waiting mouth. The tug of his hair relaxed when he finished, hands flopped to his sides as he rode out the after high.

 Brian crawled up the bed and reached for the half empty glass of water, swallowing the rest of the cum with the gulp. He lay on top of Sal once more, his cock harder than he could imagine, the spent man looking up at him through half lidded eyes.

 “Y’wanna help me out here?” Brian asked softly, gently nudging Sal's stomach with his cock.

 Sal closed his eyes, laughing softly. “I need a little rebound here, bud.” Brian smiled warmly, bending down to kiss Sal's lips.

 Sal felt the warmth of his lips, inviting and euphoric, and he was hooked once more. Gently, he laced his fingers through Brian's sweat-matted mane, pressing their foreheads together.

 He pulled back just enough to give space for air. “Still don't believe this is real.”

 “Oh, babe, it's real. It's _so_ real.” Brian's voice was low, guttural, primal. He nudged Sal's inner thigh slightly with the nearly painful erection, eliciting a moan. “Touch it. Please.”

 Sal slid his hand swiftly down Brian's side, the mixture of Old Spice and sweat overwhelmingly pleasing, and down into the half untucked towel. Brian inhaled sharply at the touch, his body twitching along with the contact.

 “I...I..” Sal started.

 “Mmmmm, yeah?” Brian groaned, locking eyes.

 “I can't return the favor. I just wanna put that upfront here.” Sal glanced away as Brian sat up slightly.

 “W-whadya mean?” He asked. “Bud, I hope I didn't pressure you, I'm sorry-”

 “No, no, not that.” Sal laughed softly. He grazed the man's shaft once more, sitting up to meet the man's lips in a soft, tender kiss. “Believe me, this is fucking heaven. I just...I can't do what you did for me just now. Like...literally.”

 Brian's face twisted into confusion for only a moment before realization hit. “Oh. _Oh._ Ya mean…”

 “I just can't...just... y'know-” Brian deftly quieted the worried Sal with a chaste kiss.

 “I know, it's your whole germaphobe thing, but right now, could ya _please_..”

 Damn. That beg. Once again, Sal was lost. Not even thinking, he licked his palm, dragging it once again along Brian's shaft. The elder man groaned into Sal's ear, as Sal began working.  He was already worked up, and Sal knew it wouldn't be long.

 He hooked a thumb around the tip, the precum beading aiding to the lubrication. Brian's groans and rocks against Sal's hand told him he wasn't far from his peak.

 “Brian, you almost-”

 “Yes, yes, please Sal…” he called out. And that was all it took. Sal kept up with the ministrations, harder and faster, until Brian couldn't take it any longer, cumming into Sal's hand with a loud call. “Oh God, Sal, baby…” as he collapsed into the man's shoulder.

 Sal pulled the towel away, wiping away the mess, and pulled Brian to him. “God, babe. Thank you so much.” He curled into the crook of Brian's shoulder,dedicating this moment to memory as Brian's sleepily kissed the top of his head.

* * *

 

The California sun peeked through the slit of the curtain, a warm glow of red and orange just barely cut into the room. Sal groaned, twisting in the bed to glance at the glowing red numbers on the nightstand: 5:57 am. He blinked a few times, remembering the 11 am upcoming flight. Yawning, he stretched and relaxed his hands, one hitting the empty side of the bed next to him.

 Sal's eyes shot wide awake. The bed was only slightly warm. He sat up, looking around the dimly lit room. He could vaguely make out both of their sets of luggage near the corner. Sighing in relief, he fell back into the bed.

 The door clicked open and closed cautiously, Q knowing Sal was in the dead of sleep just minutes before. The rustle of plastic bags piqued the sleepy man's interest. He rolled over to face the window, the glowing orange growing to a lighter shade as the clock reflected just after 6 am. Q messed around at the table by the window, sorting out take out boxes as quietly as he could manage, the crinkle of plastic and crackle of styrofoam betraying his intentions.

 “Mornin’.” Sal spoke with a sleepy edge to his voice.

 Q startled, not noticing the half dazed man watching him from across the room.

“When did you leave?” Sal questioned, opening the styrofoam container and revealing premade scrambled eggs, bacon, and a waffle.

 “I was only gone ‘bout , I dunno, 10-20 minutes.” Q shrugged. “I was kinda hoping to surprise you and get all this set up first, but what’re you gonna do.”

 Sal poked and prodded at the eggs, lifting up the waffle for inspection. “You-you didn’t…touch, any of these, did you?”

 Q laughed bemused. “Okay for one, it was the hotel’s free buffet, of course I didn’t touch any of the food directly. I’d never do that if you weren’t around to okay it.” Sal smiled slightly, realizing the fallacy of his own question.

 “And for two…” Q leaned close, his tone turning the husky deep that made Sal quiver, while gently stroking Sal’s thigh, “You’re really gonna look at me and grimace at the thought I may have touched your food, when it was I who, just last night, gave you quite possibly the best head you’ve had in your entire life?”

 Sal gulped audibly, hands trembling slightly now at his sides. He’s nowhere near sure of where to go here. Q and Sal have taken this whole thing slowly, casually, no labels for the entire week in LA. But _damn_ if this man didn’t get him right here and now.

 Q rose from his seat, just to come down to eye level with Sal, not even a foot away, hands still resting on either thigh. “Salvatore…”

 And there it was. There again was the Brian that Sal couldn’t keep from loving, from wanting to love, and from wanting to show him all the love he could offer. The love he’d kept tucked away so long, afraid of what the implications would be from revealing such a dangerous and reckless crush to his near lifelong friend.

 Sal knew where this was going now. And this time, he was ready.

 He pulled Brian in, each gasping for air as their lips collided in a crushing kiss. Sal tangled his hands through that thick mane once more, as Brian continued to press his forehead against the other’s, moving to straddle the man.

 Sal moved opposite, rising from his seat and pulling the man with him, never breaking stride in their passionate kiss. Tongues dancing in unison, hands exploring and searching fervered and wanting bodies. Sal lead the way, legs carefully backing into the bed a short distance away, knees giving way to that edge, letting him spill onto the cushion, Brian coming to rest on top of him.

 They each broke for a moment to catch breaths. “Sal, baby, I really wanna give this a shot.”

 “Oh god, Bri, me too.” He pulled Brian in once more by his hair, the man letting out a satisfied groan.

 “Babe, I need-” Brian was interrupted momentarily by the hardness resting against his belly, Sal’s cock already teasing him. “Babe, I need to get a condom at least, please.”

 Sal pulled away, kissing down Brian’s neck as he moved. “For fucks sake, please hurry.” His head was swimming. Time felt as if it froze for this very moment. Sighing, he laid back,the red glow of the clock once again staring him in the face. 9:34 am.

  _Shit_.

 “B-Bri?” Sal called out. “I hate to tell you, bud, but we have a flight in an hour and a half.”

 Brian poked his head out from around the corner. “Shit, already?” he flicked his wrist, the time glaring back at him. “Shit. Man, I’m sorry.”

 Sal rose from the bed, picking up the last few items he’d yet to pack. “It’s fine, really.”

 Brian closed the short distance between the two. “I’m gonna make it up to you, babe. We get back to New York, you and me, date night. It’ll be perfect.”

 Sal could feel the heat rising from his cheeks as he looked to the floor. “Ah, come on, Bri, we’re not in high school here. We don’t have to do that stuff.”

 Brian took his hands once more, mirroring that first night in LA. “Salvatore, I mean it. I want this to work. I want this to be perfect. We’ve already set up the best base for this relationship without even trying. One date, nothing major. I mean, we can even just go out to dinner and a movie, or either or, however you want.”

 Sal shrugged. “I mean, wouldn’t mind a dinner or somethin’.”

 Brian kissed Sal gently on the lips. “I promise you, it’ll be the best night of your life.”

 Sal isn’t huge on promises. Promises have a history of being broken a lot when it comes to Sal. But then again, Brian had never done that. Brian’s always been there. So, Sal let out a sigh, enjoyed the embrace a moment longer, and began to finish up his packing.

“you never really go all out when it comes to flying, do you?”

 “What’re you talking about?”

 “It’s always the same with you: hoodie on, hood up over a ball cap, like you’re trying your damnedest to just sink into nothing.”

 “it's not even that, c’mon, it's about comfort. I mean, we have a 6 hour flight, we’re jumping ahead 3 time zones, I dunno if you wanna be spent by the end of it, but I’d rather not.” Sal enjoyed the banter as they sat at the gate, waiting for first boarding. He sipped the Starbucks slowly, the heat of the sweet and bitter beverage sliding down his throat, warming and comforting his whole body. Throughout their journey in LAX, they’d been stopped briefly by fans, leading to Q jabbing at his attempt to blend in.

 “Yeah, you’ve got a point. I dunno if I’ll get much sleep on the plane. I slept pretty good last night.” Q sat back in his seat, looking out ahead at the approaching plane.

 Sal thought back to last night, and realized it was blank. No memories at all. He remembers falling asleep in the bed, and he was almost positive Brian was in the bed with him, but he didn’t remember any thrashing, any screaming or terror of any kind. Finally, a peaceful night of sleep.

 “I….I actually slept, didn’t I?”

 Brian smiled. “Yeah, bud, you actually did. You were pretty calm last night.”

“It’s been a long time since I haven’t woken up at some point throughout the night, or that I have even been able to sleep so easily.” Brian gave him a bemused smile, reaching for Sal’s hand out of instinct, but then pulling back.

 Sal noted the small movement, the hesitation. “Everything okay?”

 “Yeah, um, there’s just…” he looked up past Sal and nodded to the random passersby behind, some with cameras at their sides. “I dunno if you wanted this to be that open just yet.”

 Sal glanced behind, catching eye contact with a few of them. “Um, yeah, I don’t think I’m up for that right now. Just too tired, y’know.” they both caught each other’s glances, the split second moment more intimate than most physical interactions they’ve had in the past week, as their boarding was finally announced.

 Sal begrudgingly packed into the window seat, grateful that the plane itself didn’t feel so much like a sardine can of death.

 “Doing okay, bud?” Brian nudged his shoulder, settling into the seat next to him.

 “I’m not a window seat person. You know that.”

 Brian stood up, grabbing Sal’s arm. “C’mon, switch. You know better than that.” 

Sal smiled, knowing he indeed knew better. But the fact remained of the consideration.

 “I’m not gonna have you having a panic attack over something completely controllable this time. We’ve hopefully, finally, nipped that one in the bud.”

 “I…yeah, I’m hoping so.” he smiled softly.

The 6 hour flight was mostly uneventful. Both men sunk into their seats, into themselves with mindless phone business and entertainment. Sal, bored of the rigamarole of scrolling through Instagram and Twitter, rested his head on Q’s shoulder without a second thought. Q, turning to see the man content and sound asleep at his side, quietly snapping a picture.

  _Q to Joe, Murr, 2:37 pm: “I think we’re pretty good for the moment.”_

* * *

 

Sal collapsed into the couch he hadn’t seen in over a week. His house still and untouched, silent and peaceful as his mind was allowed to flow freely. Q had just dropped him off, once again promising ‘the best night he’s ever had’ tomorrow.

 He looked to the clock on the wall, 9:42 pm. The day was long, and yet not long enough. The time spent with Brian felt the same and yet different. It was exactly the same as the past over 25 years, but the warmth of his body in the seat next to him, a presence all to familiar in one sense, was completely different now.

 His phone chimed at that moment, the all too familiar sound at this point.

  _Q, to Sal, 9:42 pm: “Have tomorrow evening cleared. I promised you the best date you’ve ever had, and I intend to deliver.”_

He felt like a goddamn school girl at that point. 41 year old man, living alone in his own house, and he felt like a 15 year old girl who’s crush had finally validated her feelings. But, thinking about it, how is this any different? Q did indeed validate Sal, over and over, and Sal’s walls had come down one by one. He felt like, finally, he was ready to open up. How could he not?

 S _al to Joe, 5:27 pm: “I don’t know where we’re going. I don’t know how to dress. It’s been ages since I’ve done any of this shit, I don’t know what I’m doing.”_

_Joe to Sal, 5:29 pm: “Would you calm your man tits? You’re gonna be fine. It’s Brian. He’s not gonna care how you look. You could be a human garbage can and he’d still crack that wide ass grin of his whenever you’re around anymore.”_

_Sal to Joe, 5:30 pm: “First of all, I’ve been working on losing the man tits, thank you. Second, still doesn’t mean I can’t put a bit of effort into this.”_

_Joe to Sal, 5:35 pm: “You can’t go wrong with that black cardigan of yours.”_

6 pm was when Brian was supposed to be there. Sal was already mostly put together. He did go with the black cardigan, per Joe’s suggestion. Sensible, but not over the top. His hair was neatly put into place, and, as he felt the need to complete the look just a bit more over his own vision, he forgoed the glasses.

 As he primped himself for the impending arrival, he swore the lights flickered slightly. Nah, just his imagination. It had been raining a bit most of the day, but nothing that bad, he thought.

 Right?

 Now unsure, he crossed the living room to grasp the remote, turning it to the weather channel. Just as his eyes laid on the radar with more red than he’d care to see, the stark pitch blackness met him face on.

  _No. No fucking way._

 Of course, a blackout. Right now. Sal sighed, clicked on the phone’s flashlight, and made his way to a few candles he had put up on a shelf, mostly used in times like this. He arranged the jars throughout the room, creating a warm, modest, ambient light that he could no longer have to depend on the false, LED of the iPhone in his hand.

Which rang as he clicked the button: Brian.

 “Hello?”

 “Hey!” said Brian, excited yet hurried. The telltale sounds of movement told him he was already on the road to his house. “Um, so…I think we might have a change in plans.”

 “I mean, I dunno where you got that idea.” Sal quipped back.

 “I dunno, maybe that a good chunk of the island is out of power?” Brian laughed softly, bringing an amused smile to Sal’s face on the other end. “ There’s a few spots by me that aren’t out of power, but my place is, bud. What about you?”

 “Pitch black here, bud.” Sal sighed, looking out to the still night outside, brought to a halt by the lack of light. “What’s the game plan here?”

 “Well…” Brian thought a moment. “Like I said, there’s a few places over here that aren’t shut down by the power. They’re still up and runnin’.”

 “Like what?”

 “Well, I know Ambrosino’s is good. But nothing I’ve seen like I had planned.” Sal sighed. “But! Don’t worry, babe, please. I’ve got an idea. I’ll be there in about 20, you just sit tight, it’ll be worth it, okay?”

 “Do I need to do anything for you? I mean, I can look around and see what’s still open?”

 “Nah, I’ve got it. Got it all planned out. You just sit tight and I’ll be there, okay?”

 “...Okay.” They said their goodbyes, and Sal was left to sit and wonder.

 Not always a good thing.

_Sal, to Joe, 6:07 pm: “Your power out too?”_

_Joe, to Sal, 6:10 pm: “Of course it is, half the island’s out. Sorry, the kids don’t really like the dark and rain and all that. I thought you and Brian had a thing?”_

_Sal, to Joe, 6:12 pm: “We did. We still do, I think. He’s supposed to be here in like 5-10 minutes with an ‘idea’.”_

_Joe, to Sal, 6:14 pm: “;) ;) ;)”_

_Sal, to Joe, 6:14 pm: “Oh grow up.”_

The glare of headlights pulling up the drive caught his attention. Last minute fussing, messing with his hair, and finally deciding on the glasses due to the low light, he answered the doorbell.

 A smiling Brian greeted him with two pizza boxes.

 “I told you Ambrosino’s was open.” he chuckled. “I mean, it’s no Delmonico's but what’re you gonna do?”

Sal just chuckled. "Really?" 

"Hey, anything can be a date, right? Got a hot cherry pepper and a supreme, whatever you want."

Sal slipped off the cardigan, knowing he didn't have to try at this point. "I mean, I guess you're right. Here, go sit them on the table over there."

Brian slipped off his tennis shoes, then setting the boxes down on the table across the room.

"You want a movie or somethin?" Sal called out.

"Just pick whatever, it's cool with me."

* * *

 

Brian had thought they were having a good time, but throughout the night, he felt Sal tensing up beside him, closing in on himself. Finally he had had enough.  

"Okay, what's going on?" he said as he paused the movie.

"What?" Sal asked, stunned back to reality.

"Sal, c'mon, it's me. Just talk to me." he put his hand around Sal's shoulder in a comforting, soothing manner, his other hand grabbing at his open palm.

He sighed. “I’m just…I’m just afraid, Brian.” he looked down to their entangled hands, avoiding his searching gaze.

“Why? I’ve already told you I’m not going anywhere. Above all else, you’re my best friend. You know I trust you, and I hope you can trust me.” brian squeezed his hands as reassurance.

 Sal continued to avoid Brian’s gaze, holding his head down just a little further.

 “Sal, please.” Brian pulled away one hand to pull the man’s head close to his, their foreheads touching. “Just trust me.”

 “I do, Brian. I just don’t want to be hurt.”

 “I’m never gonna do that to you, babe. I promise. You’re mine, I’m yours, and if you’ll have it, I don’t plan on that changing for quite some time.” Their mouths just inches away, finally met in a slow, tender kiss. Sal inhaled sharply, his gut taking over for his emotions, and pulled Brian in, deepening the kiss. His hands crawled up to tangle in the almost too long hair for their age, the unique feeling under his fingertips not unlike home.

 Brian moved on top of the other, straddling the man on the couch. His own hands on either side of Sal’s head, surrounding him, the presence of Sal underneath him like a welcome piece of himself he’d lost long ago.

 Pulling back to catch air, Brian spoke first. “You sure you wanna do this?”

 “I’ve never been more sure in my life.” He pulled back, sitting up while Brian moved away, puzzled. “But please, for the love of God, not on my couch.”

 Brian smirked an evil grin. “Nah, we can’t be that kinky, not Salvatore Vulcano.”

 Sal shot him a glance as he picked up his phone. “I’m not saying that, I’m just thinkin of the mess. It’s gonna be everywhere.”

 “And what is ‘it’, exactly?”

 “Go fuck yourself, Quinn.” he smirked, moving down the hallway, guided by his phone light. “you comin?”

 Brian reached into the small plastic sack he’d brought with him, grabbing necessary items, and made a beeline behind the man.

 He’d seen it before, Sal’s bedroom. He’s helped his too-drunk friend into the bed before, heard “I love you, man” all too many times. But now it’s different. The ambiance Sal managed to create with those candles can’t be matched. It was simple, enough to see what you need, but not overexposing like a normal light of a bedroom.

 Sal looked scared, bewildered. Brian came up to close the distance, hands on Sal’s shoulders. “You’re sure?”

 Sal, finally looking into his eyes in the dim candlelight, smiled. “Yes.” And that was all it took for Brian. He was done holding back. The kiss that he’d initiated was one of urgency, passion, one that told Sal _I’m not messing around anymore, I need this. I want this_. Their tongues slid together perfectly, creating a dance that matched the flow of their bodies together.

 Brian slid his hands slowly down Sal’s body, caressing each area, each curve, till he reached his belt. “Ya ready for this, bud?” he breathed.

 “Please.” was all Sal could manage, bracing himself against Brian’s shoulders. The belt came off effortlessly. The pants, Brian admitted, he fumbled a bit with in the dark, but hey, he’s not perfect. But finally, with a bit of effort, off they came. Sal moved back, breaking the kiss just slightly, to pull off his own shirt, and reach for Brian’s pants to return the favor.

 “I dunno if I’ve ever told you this,” Brian sighed, removing his shirt while Sal worked at the belt, “but you’re one beautiful, handsome, son of a bitch.”

 “I mean, I could say the same to you.” Sal smirked, his shyness melting away. And then there they were, both in front of one another, nothing left to hide.

 “God, I don’t know how I got so lucky.” Sal spoke first, just above a whisper. Brian closed what little distance there was left, pulling him into a hug.

 “Let’s get in that bed, babe. I wanna show you how much you mean to me.”

 Sal felt the heat rise to his cheeks, as well as his own dick, as Brian reached around him to pull back the covers of the bed. Brian then nudged him just so to where he effortlessly fell into the bed. Brian straddled him, much like he was on the couch, but nothing was between them this time.

 “God, this feels so right.” Brian moaned. Sal, overwhelmed, closed his eyes, and rocked up into Brian. Brian reached down between them, grabbing Sal’s cock and giving it a gentle tug. A small moan came from the other, and Brian smirked.

 “Yeah, yeah, ya like that?” Brian moaned back, that deep, sultry tone taking over.

 “God, please Bri, keep going.”

 “Oh, I’m gonna do more than just that, baby. You want it?”

Sal shook his head feverishly, insistent. Brian reached over onto the nightstand, reaching for the small bottle of lube he’d brought with him. He wanted to come prepared, after all. Slicking up two of his fingers, he tossed the bottle back to the table before taking the fingers and running down Sal’s taint. He reached his hole, pressing gently against it.

 “Bri, fuck, please.” was all he needed to hear, pressing one finger gently in, holding there, gently hooking up and down.

 “Babe, honestly,” Sal said between breaths, “How do you know this shit?”

 “you’re asking now?” he laughed, moving the finger slightly back and forth.

“I’m curious, I’m sorry.” he laughed as Brian added the second finger.

 Brian smirked and planted a gentle, tender kiss on his lips. “I was too. College.”

 As Brian continued with his movements, Sal looked up inquisitively. “Really?”

 “Yeah, but I was never really the bottom.” he finished and pulled his hand away, reaching for a condom and the bottle of lube once more. “I’m always on top.”

 “Man, don’t do that to me, you’re gonna make me go early.” Sal sighed, instinctively rubbing his own cock while Brian prepped himself.

 “I mean, if you wanna just go for it, I feel like I’m only good for a couple minutes.”

 Sal sighed. “Babe, you don’t understand, though. I wanted this first time to be good, to be long and hot and passionate and-”

 Brian cut him off with a chaste kiss. “And you don’t think it’s been passionate or good at this point? C’mon, Salvatore, it’s like you don’t know me.”

 “But I wanted it to be longer than this.”

 Brian lined himself up, ready to go. “Yeah?”

 “Yeah, and I’d hate to see us waste it in-OH GOD” Sal cried out as Brian entered him suddenly.

 “Watch me, I can make this last. I’ll have you begging, babe. “

 Sal breathed sharply through his nose, eyes screwed shut. “Babe, c’mon, just move.”

 “Move…what?” he smirked.

 “Move your fucking cock already.”

 “you’re forgetting something.” Brian bent down just enough to lick at Sal’s nipple, just adding to the torture.

 “God, Bri, _please_ , _PLEASE_ , just fuck me already!” And so he did. Out he came and right back in, slamming Sal up into the bed, as he kept moving his hips harder and faster.

 Sal sighed, moaned, moving his hips in time with Brian. “God, I never thought this would happen, or how it would feel.”

 “Is it what you wanted?” Brian asked, hooking his arms under Sal’s legs, gaining leverage to push harder.

 “Fuck yes, please, keep going.” He moved in time with Brian, his hand moving faster on his cock, matching the speed. “Please, Brian, I’m gonna come.”

 Brian smirked, his hair long since fallen over his face, giving him an almost evil glance down at the other, Sal locking eyes with him. “Please, please, please _Brian!”_ and that’s all it took, as he came all over his hand, onto Brian’s stomach and his own.

 Brian pushed further, harder, knowing he was close himself. “Babe, God you’re beautiful, fucking handsome and shit, please.” and one, two, three strokes and he was coming into Sal, a choked moan just barely escaping his lips. “God, Salvatore.” he sighed, collapsing to Sal’s side.

 Sal lay there, aware of the mess he’d become, his hand held out in slight disgust. He turned to Brian, hot, sweaty, panting from the passion, and felt the sting of tears at his eyes.

 Brian, having caught his breath, caught Sal starting to tear up. “Oh, God, baby, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Was it too much?” he grabbed sal’s face with his hands, and sal just smiled back.

 “No, babe, it was just…perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never thought it would be so hard to write this chapter when I became a nurse but for real, you know how many times I almost wrote "perineal area?" too many.


End file.
